Sunday, February 10, 2013

Alone Again

For the eighteenth Valentines Day in a
row, I will be solitary. I will not consider myself alone. Yet in the
typical V Day stance, I will be. My relationship status as displayed on
Facebook as it has been for the last five years, will be ‘single’.

I never have been really sure how to
react to the lurve day hype that arrives as January departs. People talk about
their plans. Buy shit. It has never affected me personally. My parents don’t
even participate in it (Dad believes Valentine’s Day is another “goddamn”
American corporate scheme to gain international control).

Yet every year, again and again,
individuals around me moan about oh how they’re single yet again on the dreaded
day and that their life has no meaning and how they are doomed to be forever
alone. Every single year, (and every other day) I am forced to empathize with
these people like I give a frazzling fuck. Fine. Yes I am in their exact
situation; I know the single blues like the bloody crazy cat lady on the
Simpsons. And because of their not being able to handle their lonesomeness,
something that had little impact on my existence has now instead transformed it
to shit.

This is only becomes depressingly worse
when you consider my gender, along with the fact that I have a multitude friends
that share my gender. I am not meaning to stereotype here, but lonely teenage
girls are the scum of the earth come February. If not the whole population of
them, the majority. Their incessant whines of “omg does he lyk meh” are enough
to render a bystander into a state of considerable mental damage.

Towards the end of high school, my grade
was forced into Mean Girlseque workshop confronting the future and fears and
feels. At one point we were to anonymously submit genuine anxieties of ours,
which were then read aloud. Amongst the reasonably terrifying statements, there
was one that went along the lines of “I AM NEVER GOING TO FIND SOMEBODY TO LOVE
ME”. And apparently this was shockingly relatable. And the only real
consolation for this is that someone will love you eventually. It just hasn’t
happened yet.

Pardon moi? Whatever happened to
everyone jumping on Beyonce’s empowered wagon and waving their hands sassily in
people’s faces and embracing all the single ladies? To everyone repeating said
gesture and exclaiming that like The Pussycat Dolls, they don’t need a man? Was that just a cute trend and not a resonating truth for you
all?

I
actually cannot understand why we so often define ourselves by other people. As
depressing as this sounds, you are born alone. Your soul mate is not immediately
allocated to you. If you cannot exist as an individual, oh how life will seem
to endlessly shit on you. Honestly though, you are you. You are not the
relationship status looming on your Facebook profile. You are you and that to
me matters more than who you happen to (or not to) spoon at night. Why should
we be made to feel descending qualms for not having someone to constantly swap
saliva with?

This Valentine’s Day, I refuse to be made to feel inferior to any pair
of face licking deviants. February 14th to me will just be another day just
like its 364 brothers and sisters of the year. I will continue to exist, just
as I always have. I am me. An individual. Not a half of two names jokingly
merged together. But a whole.